I'd stomp those ants into the ground,
I'd show them who was boss,
I'd make them so afraid of me,
Not caring for their loss.

A child at just the age of five,
I thought that it was cool,
To lord it over weaker ones,
And make up my own rules.

But now I'm grown and look around,
At others doing the same,
And like the child of five years old,
They play the same old game.

They think that schoolyard bullying,
Is something that is cool,
To lord it over weaker ones,
And make up their own rules.

But though the ants were trodden on,
Most lived to see the day,
When one small boy of five years old,
Grew up and moved away.

Let's hope those schoolyard 'ant-hill kings',
Grow up and see the light,
For picking on the weaker ones,
Is never, ever right.

The time may come when they're the ones,
Downtrodden like the ants,
And wish the ones who bully them,
Will of their acts recant.

by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul